


The Art of Breaking

by hitokiri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angelic Grace Play (Supernatural), Bottom Sam, Crying Sam, Grace Play, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Top Dean Winchester, Top Michael, it's mildly dubious because sam and dean both want it but under different circumstances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitokiri/pseuds/hitokiri
Summary: Sam catches wind of Michael's location and he goes to find him, hoping to convince him to let his brother go. It goes nothing like Sam planned, and now he's marked by the archangel, and he still doesn't have Dean back.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Michael/Sam Winchester
Comments: 19
Kudos: 149





	The Art of Breaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nina3491](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nina3491/gifts).



> I do not own Supernatural.
> 
> I know nothing of the night club in the fic. I Googled "clubs in Louisville, KY" because my job just opened a new building in Louisville so the city was in my head, though I've never been there.
> 
> This is a request from Nina3491, so. Hopefully it didn't disappoint. It's not beta'd. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> * are scenes in Sam's POV
> 
> * * are scenes in Michael's POV
> 
> It was important to have both, because we get to hear from Dean with Michael's POV.

Sam has everyone on the lookout for Dean. He knows it's only a matter of time until someone catches sight of him and Sam can make his move. He has no idea what he can even do, but he's got to get Michael let go of his brother somehow. It's dangerous, but if Dean had been able to get Sam to take enough control over Lucifer, then Sam can get Dean to take control long enough to force the archangel out.

He just needs to get close enough to talk to him.

He can't remember the last time he slept a full night, or the last time he ate enough. He's lost weight and he's tired, but he can't think of these things right now; not while Michael is out there, still in Sam's big brother's body, who knows where doing who knows what.

Leaning back in his chair in the library, Sam closes his eyes and rubs at his growing beard. He hasn't shaved in days and it's growing fast; he can't help but wonder what his brother would say if he saw it. He smiles despite himself, when his cell phone rings on the table. He doesn't open his eyes to read who's calling before answering.

"Hello?"

" _Sam, I found Dean, well... a hunter I asked for help caught him on a street cam._ "

Sam has never sat up so fast. "Garth? What? Where?"

" _I'm texting you an address. Do you want backup? I can meet you there._ "

He's so grateful for Garth, but the man has spent enough time away from his family for them that he couldn't ask for any more. "Thanks so much, man, I've got this."

" _Get your brother back, Sam. Take care._ "

They hang up and Sam waits for the incoming text with the address. He doesn't know if Dean will still be there by the time Sam gets there, but a clue is a clue and Sam will go anywhere his brother has been, talk to anyone he may have talked to, to figure out where he's going next. The text provides an address in Louisville, Kentucky. He inputs the address to Google and finds that it's a blues night club, which, honestly, feels like a place the archangel would go to to unwind. Sam tries to imagine his brother in a place like that, dressing the way he dresses, and wants to laugh.

It's an almost twelve hour drive, and Sam is unlikely to find him still there by the time he gets there, but he's setting up alerts on his tablet for any strange activity in Louisville to let him know what Michael might be up to.

*

He's exhausted and shaking by the time he gets to Louisville. He sits outside Stevie Ray's Blue's Bar, a _CLOSED_ sign glaring at him, and reads the hours. They open at 5 PM; it's only 11 AM. He sighs and heads for the first motel in the phone book out of habit and settles down to sleep for a few hours before he goes to the club to talk to anyone who may have seen his brother.

*

He sleeps longer than intended, waking up just after 6 PM, but he doesn't let it bother him. Michael hadn't gone to the club until after 9 the night before, so that gives Sam time to prepare. He showers to wash off the sleep and tiredness and gets dressed. He brought his nicest jeans to wear to the club. He isn't going the FBI route this time; he's just going to be a bar patron and nonchalantly ask questions around the bar.

The bouncer lets him in easily enough and he pays the cover -- $15 -- and heads right for the bar. He orders a beer that he doesn't plan on drinking too much of but he has to keep appearances up as he waits. He's not going to ask questions immediately; he needs to get a feel for the place and the people in it before he grills them. He also doesn't know if Michael has anyone in his pocket yet. He has to be cautious.

"You're new here," a soft yet confident voice speaks from his other side. The stool next to him that had previously been vacant is now occupied with a beautiful brunette in a tight black dress. Her hair is long and shimmering over her shoulders, her legs crossed, causing her dress to ride up her thigh slightly.

"Yeah," he says, swallowing thickly, "I'm looking for someone."

She smiles. Sam doesn't know what he sees in that smile. "I could be anyone you want, sugar."

Sam snorts, unable to stop himself. It's something Dean would say to get into a girl's pants -- or dress, as it were. "I'm sorry," he says, "But I'm _looking for someone_."

"I'm here almost every night," she says, bouncing back, "Maybe I've seen who you're looking for."

That gets his attention. He turns to her fully and says, excited, "Really? Were you here last night?"

"As a matter of fact, I was."

Sam sighs, relieved, says, "Did anything strange happen last night?" It's probably not the question he should have started off with, but he had to ask. He has to know if Michael was at this bar for a reason.

"Strange? No. But," she pauses, looking him up and down, "Strange besides two unfamiliar faces coming here in the middle of the week? When this is normally a locals bar until the weekend? Sugar, you and ZZ Top are about the strangest things I've seen in awhile."

"ZZ Top?"

"You know, Sharp Dressed Man and all that," she says with a wave of her hand. "He's here right now." She gestures over Sam's shoulder with her chin and his head whips around. "A smooth talker, that one. Turned me down, too."

In the crowd behind him stands Dean.

He stands up before he can stop himself. "Thank you," he says to her without giving her another glance, and walks in the direction of his brother.

There isn't any surprising the archangel, Michael notices him before he gets too close. He says something Sam isn't close enough to hear and the crowd around him dissipates and lets Sam through. He's cautious when he gets within touching distance. "Michael," he says, rolling his shoulders and trying to make himself taller, more intimidating.

"Sam Winchester," Michael replies in Dean's voice, no life in his tone. "You're good, kid. I never thought you'd find me."

"I have my ways."

From this close, nobody blocking his view, Sam can see the way Michael dressed his brother. He's wearing a suit -- dark grey with white pinstripes and a vest to match -- shiny black spats, and a dark brown newsboy's cap. He looks like a gangster from the 1920s. This isn't Dean, but damn does he look good.

He spends longer looking his brother up and down than he should and Michael seems to notice. "Like something you see, Sammy?"

Snapping out of it, Sam grits, "Don't call me that."

Michael laughs Dean's laugh. "Funny, your brother just told me the same thing." He shakes his head and takes a step closer. "He seems to be really possessive of you, Sam. If you weren't brothers I'd say he had a thing for you." Sam turns his head away, pink coloring his cheeks in embarrassment; Michael isn't far off, except it's the other way around. It's always been the other way around. Dean never felt for Sam what Sam felt for him. "Oh? Does big brother not know that _you_ have a thing for _him_?" He looks regretful for a quick moment before laughing, "Well, he knows now. Sorry, kiddo."

Sam flinches when Dean's hand reaches up to touch the side of his face. "Don't be like that, Sammy," he whispers, closing the distance between them even more. "I know you want this." He looks amused for a moment when Sam slaps his hand away, then glares at his vessel's younger brother. "You do know that lying is a sin, don't you, Sam?"

"Shut up," Sam growls.

He can't move away in time before Michael grabs Sam's wrist and the room fades and he's no longer in the loud bar, surrounded by a crowd of drunk and dancing people. Instead he's in a room that looks to be covered in velvet, deep blue velvet, but the music from the bar is bleeding through the walls. There's a door that says "STAGE" and he realizes he's backstage of the Blue's Bar. Had it been a weekend instead of a Wednesday night, this room might be occupied by whatever band would be playing onstage that night, but it's not a concert night, and he's left alone with Michael.

He's pressed against the door before he can catch his breath, Michael breathing into his face, keeping him pinned in place. "It's my job to punish sinners... Sammy."

His body reacts on its own. He doesn't know what's come over him, but his jeans are suddenly too tight, the room too small; there's not enough air for him to breathe, sharing with the archangel that's taken over his brother's body. He lets out a shuddering breath and closes his eyes, hoping to will the erection away. This is Dean but it's not Dean. He's always wanted his big brother, but this isn't him. He may be in Dean's body but it's not Dean. It's not his brother. Why can't he stop being turned on?

It's already wrong to be turned on by his brother, but this... this is so much worse.

"I wonder what kind of punishment I could give you that would _be_ a punishment?" Michael muses. "You seem to really want this, Sam, if _this_ ," he whispers against Sam's ear as he grabs Sam's erection, "Is any indication." Sam whimpers, shoulders tensing against the door. "But then again... it could be punishment on its own knowing that Dean _doesn't_ want what I'm going to give you."

Sam can't look at his brother's face as Michael says, "I'm going to give you what you want, Sammy. I'm going to give you Dean."

He leans in and kisses Sam hard.

* *

' _You goddamn bastard!_ ' Dean yells inside his head. ' _Don't touch him!_ '

Dean's fighting harder now knowing what Michael is about to do to his little brother, but that won't dissuade the archangel. Even hating humans, Michael can recognize the beauty in Sam Winchester. The man fights for what he believes in, and loves with his whole heart, and Michael thinks he's absolutely gorgeous. The fact that the kid practically dropped himself into Michael's lap is, for lack of a better term, a godsend. The angry buzzing of Dean Winchester in the back of his mind will not stop him.

' _Listen, Dean_ ,' he replies with a sigh, ' _Just because you never claimed him doesn't mean that he's off limits. In fact, just_ because _you didn't claim him means that he's free game. Just sit back and feel everything I'm about to do to him. I promise you'll like it._ '

' _You're hurting him by telling him I don't want it!_ ' he growls, trying to fight through and take his body back.

Michael just laughs at his attempts. ' _That's the whole point. It's not a punishment if it doesn't hurt._ '

He shuts off Dean's voice at the first sounds of Dean calling him every curse word in the book, leaving everything else open for Dean to see, hear, and feel everything his body does to his precious little brother. The silence is beautiful.

*

Sam tries fighting, he really does, but Michael pins his hands to the wall at his sides by his wrists and pushes his brother's tongue into his mouth. Michael kisses wet and messy with Dean's mouth and had those strong hands not been holding him up, he would have hit the floor with the way his knees buckled. He's never been kissed so thoroughly before, his breath taken away. His body feels like it's melting between the heat from his brother's body and the door against his back. He whimpers despite all attempts to keep quiet, his eyes sliding closed.

This isn't Dean. This isn't Dean, but it is Dean's body, and Sam has wanted this since he was old enough to know what sex was. He's wanted his brother since the first time Dean came home smelling like perfume and _girl_ , like sex and sweat, and knew that he could never be enough for him. Sam was a boy, and Dean liked girls.

He whines low in his throat and Michael pulls away, looking at Sam -- _through_ Sam -- with Dean's green eyes, and Sam wants nothing more than to curl up and cry right now because Michael told Dean the secret Sam has been hiding for more than twenty years.

Even if he gets Dean back, he's still going to lose him.

"Please, just," Sam swallows, "Please give my brother back." His lips are red and swollen, cheeks flushed with arousal and shame, and Michael sends Dean's smirk his way. He turns his head, unable to look into those eyes anymore. "Please."

"How about this," Dean's voice says, all seriousness, "If you let me play with you, Sammy, I'll think about giving you back your beloved brother."

Sam's surprised hazel eyes meet smug green and he doesn't want to, but he dares to hope. "What?"

"You're beautiful," he replies with a shrug. "And my body -- _your brother's_ body, rather -- is reacting to that, when I haven't felt like this for anyone before. Humans, you see, disgust me. But you, Sam Winchester, you intrigue me, and I feel warm when I look at you. Down here," he rasps, his hand grasping Sam's erection again. "It makes me want to tear you apart and break you." Sam draws in a gasp, both from the touch and from the archangel's words. "If you let me have that, I _might_ set Dean free."

It's more than Sam could hope for. He closes his eyes and breathes, "Yes," before he can even gives it a second thought.

* *

He can feel Dean pounding on the walls inside his head as he undresses his little brother but he can't hear a word the older Winchester is saying.

Sam's whole body trembles as Michael peels his clothes off layer by layer, exposing him to the chilly air in the room. He presses a warm fingertip to Sam's bare chest, trailing it down to his thin stomach, giving Dean his voice back momentarily to hear what he has to say about his too-skinny little brother -- ' _Has he even been eating? Fuck, Sammy..._ ' -- and he's not disappointed.

"Beautiful," he whispers once he's got Sam completely bare, and sets to undress himself. He could snap his fingers and have had them both undressed in a second, but the show is part of the enjoyment. He's enjoying Sam's lust-blown eyes watching him undress his big brother. For each layer he removes, he folds it nicely and places it on the table against the wall. The more skin he uncovers the redder Sam's cheeks become, the more flushed the rest of his body becomes, and yes, that flush goes _everywhere_. They're both enjoying the show.

He moves to the blue velvet couch once he's undressed and sits down, naked and hard, raking his eyes over Sam's frozen body. "Come here," he beckons with the crook of a finger, and Sam springs to action, standing at Michael's feet. "Sit." Sam moves to sit beside him, but a hand wrapping around his wrist stops him, and Michael says, "No, _here_ ," and yanks Sam down into his lap. Sam draws in a gasp when Michael's -- _Dean's_ \-- hard dick presses against the cleft of his ass, a place Sam has never been touched by another person Michael assumes. Michael grinds up against the warm flesh above him and Sam wriggles, precome dripping from his own cock resting against his thigh. "If you want this," he whispers, smug, "If you want your brother back... then you're going to have to take it yourself, kiddo." Sam tenses above him, waits. "Don't you want your brother back?"

*

Sam closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip. He wants Dean back more than anything; he wants this so bad. He's always wanted to be with his brother like this, but not _like this_.

And this could very well cost him his brother.

He has to weigh his options. Let Michael fuck him in Dean's body, giving him what he's craved for most of his life, and get his brother's body back at the same time and risk Dean hating him... or let Michael continue to parade around doing who knows what in Dean's body.

He'd rather lose his brother by _Dean's_ choice than let this archangel continue to trap him in his own mind.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Sam whispers, hoping Dean can hear him. "You can hate me and leave me when I get you your body back, but until then... just hang in there. You have to let me save you so you can leave me on your own."

He doesn't have any lube so he has to work with what he's got, which is nothing. He's never been fucked before, but he has fingered himself before. Mostly to the thoughts of Dean taking him. He closes his eyes and slicks up two fingers with his own spit, swirling his tongue around them hoping it will be enough. He keeps lube in his bedside drawer, but he doesn't have that here. He didn't think this would be something he'd be doing.

When his fingers are as wet as he can get them, he lifts his hips and leans forward. His left hand is braced against the back of the couch keeping him up, arm brushing Michael's ear, his chest almost touching Michael's nose. He reaches his right hand back behind him and teases it between his ass cheeks, pressing against his hole that hasn't been touched in months. Pressing hard, he breaches the tight channel and groans at the initial stretch. "Oh god," he whines, pushing harder until the first knuckle slips in. Dean's green eyes are seeing right through him, Michael watching him intently, cock twitching at the noises Sam's making.

"Don't stop, Sam." Sam's eyes close as he pushes in further and Michael reaches up, grasps his chin, forcing his head to look down. "Look at me." Sam does. "Good boy. Now fuck your fingers in and out, don't stop." He gives Sam a pleased grin when Sam does just that, the whimpers never stopping, but he never looks away. "Now add another finger."

Sam doesn't think he's ready but he does as he's told, hoping if he's a good boy Michael will let him have his brother back.

The second finger hurts, the stretch unbearable, but he knows his brother's cock will hurt even more so he has to do this. He has to stretch himself as much as he can. He has to be ready. He whimpers when he looks down at the hard cock resting between his brother's thighs, knowing spit won't be enough to ease the way, as he adds a third finger and cries out, "Please."

He's never gone past two fingers before, and never without proper lubrication. Tears build up in the corners of his eyes and he whines low in his throat as he pushes all three fingers all the way in. He fucks himself slow and steady, thighs shaking where they bracket Michael's legs on the couch. His arm is losing strength fast where it holds him up and he falls forward against his brother's chest when his elbow buckles as his fingers press against his prostate.

"That's it," Michael coos in Dean's _you okay, little brother?_ voice. Sam is trembling as Michael pulls his fingers from his abused hole slowly, whispering, "Don't worry, I have something to ease the pain for you when you take big brother inside you." Sam doesn't have the energy to question, just moves when Michael manhandles him into position, closing his eyes and shaking in terror and nervousness when the head of his big brother's dick presses against his dry hole. "Come on, Sam," he whispers, "Sit on big brother's dick for me. Take it." His hands are hot where they grab Sam's thin hips, forcing him down onto his cock, pushing inside Sam all the way. Sam lets out a scream at the initial stretch, but then a warmth spreads through him, a warmth he remembers feeling years ago.

Grace. Angel grace coating his insides and easing the slide, numbing the pain, and sending pure pleasure down Sam's spine, giving him goosebumps. He's panting, chest to chest with his brother, as he adjusts to the feeling of the angelic grace coursing through his body. His erection had gone down at the pain but now it's back, hard and leaking all over the man beneath him, and he can't help but grind his hips and _take_ just like he was told. Michael moans, a sound that Sam never thought he'd hear from his brother's mouth that _he_ made him do. It's strangely riveting and just what he's always wanted.

Even if it isn't really Dean he's pleasuring.

He bounces up and down in his lap, trying to find the angle that will force the head of the cock inside him to press against his prostate. But this angle is harder than he expected and he can't get it right.

He groans in frustration until Michael pulls out completely and flips them over. He bends Sam over the couch and pushes in harder than before, taking full control. Sam cries out, bracing himself against the couch as his ass is used and fucked raw by his big brother's body while his big brother is probably begging Michael not to do that with his body.

Tears stream down Sam's face before he even realizes he's crying.

* *

He knows Sam is crying, can hear as he tries to hide his sobs, but he feels too good to care. This isn't about making the younger Winchester happy, this is about getting off inside the first thing his metaphorical dick has been interested in. Using his grace wasn't even something he wanted to do, but he didn't want to make the human bleed. Sex is meant to feel good, and mostly he thinks that as long as it feels good, it will hurt both Winchesters more.

He fucks Sam harder, slides his hands down from Sam's hips to the front of his body, curls over the fronts of his thighs and grips tight, spreading his legs wider. Sam almost loses balance but Michael keeps him standing, praises him with, "Good boy," and kisses the back of his sweat-slick neck. "Take it."

The thighs under his palms tremble, the channel gripping his cock tightening around him and he knows Sam is close, wants him to come more than anything. It will draw his own orgasm from him. "Come, Sammy," he commands, grinding against the spot he knows Sam was seeking before. "Come for big brother."

That does it. Sam tightens around him impossibly, contricting and milking Michael of his own orgasm, except he doesn't just come, he bleeds grace into Sam's tight, quivering channel, and Sam screams.

*

White hot warmth coats his insides, spreading through to his lower belly and he gasps, shaking, crying, begging, moaning. "Dean," he whines as Michael pulls out, hole quivering at the loss, and two fingers push right back inside, keeping him plugged up. "Oh fuck." He's sensitive, raw. He can't take it anymore. "Please, make it stop," he whimpers, falling forward and the pads of Dean's fingers press hard against his prostate again, causing his cock to give a twitch of interest, despite just having come. " _Stop_."

"Mm, but this is fun, Sammy," he teases, relentless. The warmth pulses inside him and he convulses for a moment, moaning in both pain and pleasure. "Feel that? That's my grace. But I think you already knew that. You have... yes, you've had grace inside you before, haven't you? I can feel it. Tendrils, weak and wispy, fighting with mine." He does something, Sam doesn't know how, but it makes the grace dance inside him, spreading that warmth through his groin and making him achingly hard again. "This grace, _my_ grace, will stay inside you. I'll be able to find you anywhere. And now, Sam..." He leans down, breathing against Sam's ear, kissing behind it. "Now I can do _this_ \--"

Another wave of heat and arousal spreads through Sam's body and he whines, begs, " _No_..."

"--anytime I want to." He wriggles three fingers inside Sam's wet, fucked out channel. "You're mine now." With just his fingers and his grace, Michael makes Sam come again, dick twitching between his belly and the couch, and he laughs softly before pulling away from him completely, cleaning himself off with a snap of his fingers. He's dressed by the time Sam gets the strength to turn around and collapse on the couch, ass sore and leaking.

He looks up at Michael hopefully, whispers, "My brother?"

* *

Dressed and undisheveled, Michael steps back up to Sam and leans down to kiss him one last time, carding his fingers through his hair. Sam's eyes close under the touch and the banging inside his head comes back with a vengeance. He closes his eyes for a moment, tells Dean to shut up, and gently touches Sam's beard. "I said I'd think about it, Sam. But, see... in this body, you want me. If I give it up, how will I ever get you again, hm?"

He chuckles at Sam's stricken look when the younger man looks up at him. "No--!"

"But don't you worry, Sammy," he says with a cold smile. "I'll be seeing you very soon. Take care of my grace, kiddo." He leaves Sam at the same time as he gives Dean his voice back, letting him speak his mind.

' _You goddamn son of a bitch_ ,' Dean growls, fighting even harder now, ' _Just let me talk to him, I need_ \--'

"Don't worry, Dean," Michael says, closing his eyes. "I meant it when I said I could do whatever I wanted to him with my grace. He belongs to me now, and I intend on using him anytime I want. Just sit back and enjoy the ride; I'm allowing you to feel it when I fuck him because I know you want it, but I can just as easily keep you from seeing and feeling it."

**Author's Note:**

> Please review!!


End file.
